Golden Fury
by jaketheturtle
Summary: Sordid love affairs, mostly. Silly. Read it. I spent months on this, so it should be good. Crossover fic.


Title: Golden Fury Summary: Sordid love affairs, mostly. Silly, but really good writing. The guidelines from ff.net scared me a little, so I am hesitant to say more. Read it. I spent months on this, so it should be good. Crossover fic. Characters: Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, Gandalf Takes place in Hogwarts. [A/N author's notes in brackets. I have written lots of fanfiction before, but this is the first one I have posted, so tell me if I should continue. I initially wrote this in a journal that got confiscated a couple times I school, so I decided to type it up. However, if it blows I'll just go back to writing in the journal and won't bother typing it up. Flames are welcome too, just be detailed about whatever you do or don't like. Enjoy. It's sappy at the beginning, but gets better and eventually really sweet later on, so keep reading.]  
  
Gandalf gazed lovingly into Ron's eyes, then jerked back into reality. 'You must not succumb to such petty desires,' he chided himself, before softening his features-he had been glowering furiously off into space, but the poor boy had thought that he was angry with him. Merlin, he needed to get out of there. Which was another issue within itself. J.K. Rowling had stolen and brutally plagiarized his cronies, and he was now hurtling through some sort of who- the-hell-knows-what towards Merlin-knows where. So, they might as well enjoy themselves. Boromir and Hermione were off shagging somewhere, so they had some time to kill. And plenty of it, Gandalf knew from experience. He sighed and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Did you know that 90% of gay relationships start with a hand on the shoulder?" [Okay, rewind, I'll do this the boring way.]  
"I need to talk t- mmmm..." Gandalf's potential tirade was interrupted by a smothering kiss from Ron. [Maybe not :)] "In storyland, aka Hogwarts, I can hear all that you're not telling me, and then some." He suppressed a naughty smirk, then gave in. "Yes, Gandalf, even that." Needless to say, the ten foot long pike-uh, staff- tended to come in handy. Not that he needed it. After snogging for a good 20 minutes, they wanted more. Problem being, they were still falling, and though the adrenaline had worn off, they had nothing to steady themselves upon. Wait a second, in that case- where were Boromir and Hermione? Neither of them felt like bothering to put their clothes back on, so they crudely began shouting from their current position- not that they could really go anywhere. They began rocking back and forth when, all of a sudden; they felt something off towards their left. With one swift jerking motion, they both tumbled outwards and fell... Into a shrine.  
They shifted on the diminutive dais, however they soon discovered that the pulpit was actually a portkey, or so they assumed.  
"Oh shit," they thought simultaneously, but before they had time for much else, the world was seemingly melting around them. Suddenly, they began whirling rapidly, clinging to each other for dear life, hoping against hope that they would make it back at all.  
They landed. It was all over. They were free. THEY WERE FREE!  
Strangely, they were in Ron's dormitory. Harry, Seamus, Dean, and Neville were all immersed in slumber. Soundlessly, Gandalf crept over to Harry's four-poster. "So this is the Potter boy. That Chang will suffer for what she did to him." Ron stared disbelievingly at the brimming senility in his lover's eyes, then garbled, "You know, I think we have a more pressing problem on our hands here." "Hmm? Oh, right, sorry. The absent-mindedness comes with age," he mumbled. "You're not old, Gandalf, I love you." He nibbled his ear delicately. "Now come on, we have to get going."  
  
~*~ They wound their way through the endless mass of corridors towards the headmaster's office.  
"So, what's the new headmaster like, anyway?" inquired Gandalf, as he lay his head upon Ron's, inhaling the debonair scent of tulips (mingled with car fumes and cheap cologne, of course- he was a Weasley, after all).  
"Oh, he's, well, ancient, with long flowing, (albeit ivory-colored) hair, and he loves sucking on lemon drops." That struck a chord with Gandalf. He began to reminisce about his lost lover in a situation similar to that which he and Ron were in at this very moment. Lo and behold, their breakup had been harsh on them both, and after years of celibacy, during which he pondered his future (or lack thereof, during periods of excruciating distress) he had begun to see something of a spark in Ron, a chemistry that drew them closer together than their words or actions ever could.  
Now, they were a couple, and yet he still lusted over his lost love. 'Damn you, you freak. Nobody in their right minds would want to fuck a damned fruitbat like you, so shut your hole and be happy with whatever the fuck you get.' [Pun not intended]  
But Ron loved him, really loved him, for who he was and for who he could be, and he should be overjoyed at that. So, he sighed deeply and buried his head in Ron's cloak, and told himself to shut it one last time before he dozed off.  
He woke moments later, to Ron's mutterings of narcoleptic wankers and such, and reveled in the glory of the edifice for which he had come to pass. They brushed past the post, Ron having said the password to a gargoyle that was now checking him out.  
"Dark chocolate." A disturbingly apt analogy, he realized with a shudder.  
They stepped inside to be greeted with the familiar clutter of 'whirring silver contraptions', as the aforementioned J.K. Rowling had dubbed them, although the assemblage merely consisted of a broken doorknob and a mechanical pencil.  
They were greeted by the headmaster with the sight of the reverse end of his vintage burgundy leather swively armchair. He languidly stood, only his pallid tresses visible. Gandalf's eyes widened, his features glowing with dawning comprehension. The headmaster pivoted charily on his heel, and turned to face him with an indecipherable look upon his face.  
Gandalf's face broke into a cheeky grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  
"Albus." ~*~ They took each other into their arms in a long-awaited passionate yet gentle embrace, while their third wheel looked on with noticeable chagrin.  
"Um, Gandalf? Sweetie? DUMBLEDORE?! What the fuck is going on here?"  
With a flash and a puff of smoke, they were both seemingly thrown onto the floor.  
"Dammit, I forgot. Anti-apparition wards. Fuck you, Phineas," he commented through a hacking cough, gesturing rudely at the painting above his desk. "At least he got the sticky." With that, and an elaborate swish of his robes, he was gone, Gandalf trailing in his wake.  
Ron stood, aghast, and with the furious air of a ticking time-bomb, carefully peeled the yellow muggle artifact off of his ever-powdered forehead. He painstakingly shifted it in his hands to reveal-  
"I'm sorry. I can't. Don't hate me."  
That statement was later to be copied ruthlessly over a thousand times, and famed as the breakup sticky.  
Ron sighed, and with his head and other things hung lower than they had been when he walked in, he shuffled off into the darkness, all the while muttering under his breath. ~*~ "It's been three fucking months already. Padma, you're smart. You're a Ravenclaw, for heaven's sake. Tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do."  
"You're on your own, man," she replied, with a sympathetic clap on the shoulder.  
"Oh, sod off," he mumbled, hands traveling towards the bridge of his nose, and pinching it as if the sharp pain would cause all of his problems to seep out from under his fingertips.  
Then a thought occurred to him- a very private thought would warrant perhaps a bitchslap or two should Veritaserum find its way into his system, nevertheless a thought. And, cleaned up a bit, a tangible one.  
Acting on flaming impulse, as usual, the dashing redhead stormed through the portrait hole, spat out the password haphazardly (although he was leaving), and sprinted off towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. ~*~  
"So, Parvati, as I was saying, I have the gorgeous man of my dreams meters away, and I am sitting here on my fat ass waiting for him. Damn it all."  
"First off, if I may say so myself, your ass is not fat- au contraire, you have a very nice ass, trust me. Secondly, of you're too freaked to just get your fat ass over there and talk to him-kidding, kidding- I can bring him up here, if you would prefer."  
"Thanks, you're really a lifesaver, sis. Love ya."  
"Love you too, Padma." They hurriedly hugged, not quite succeeding at suppressing a fit of giggles. Then, she was off, Padma scooting to the concealed window to watch and wait for her best friend, soul mate [oh, not like that, you perv] and makeshift carrier pigeon. ~*~  
Parvati gracefully flitted down the steps, elated at being able to help a friend in need. More than a friend, her sister. 'Her twin sister', and that thought clouded over her mind and forestalled the nagging prick of doubt-and jealousy? -in the back of her mind. 'No, Parvati. Behave', she scolded herself.  
She was so preoccupied that she slammed directly into the object of her sister's affection. ~*~  
Ron did not notice her walking towards him, as he was busy pondering whether or not Padma spit when she brushed her teeth.  
Upon recognition, he threw himself into her arms and pressed his lips onto hers.  
"Oh, Padma, mmmm..."  
"Ron, yes, oh, don't stop. Wait, what'd you call me?!"  
"Padma," he muttered breathlessly as the realization hit him. 'Oh shit.' This was going to be a long night. ~*~  
"Look, let's just have a threesome and pretend this never happened." Ron suggested, after several minutes of hazily sorting through the night's events. Just screw all of it.  
Parvati, sensing her sister's eagerness, blurted, "Oh, yeah, baby."  
Padma then looked from her twin to her boyfriend, blood and libido surging through her veins, but thoughts of either vanished as she proceeded to tear their clothes off wantonly. ~*~  
As the minutes passed and the heat flowed freely between them, Ron seemed to take heed of the fact that the twins had been going at it like bunnies while Ron was merely gawking, and every once in a while coming to his senses and grabbing whatever flesh he could lay his hands on, literally. But as the initial rush wore off (for him at least), he tried to regain his status as a player and not as a spectator.  
"Ouch." He landed with a loud 'plop', naked butt slamming against the cold stone floor.  
"FINE! You don't want me here, then I'll go. Oh, whatever, go screw yourselves. I'm leaving. GOODBYE", he gushed, sobbing hysterically into his own arms, and, tearing off at breakneck speed towards the astronomy tower, sought out those of his lover's.  
"Gandalf, my precious, come to me. Accio! Damn, that should have worked. GANDALF! My love, my precioussssssss."  
He fell upon the door which bent to his will, and he landed, skidding to a halt on the floor at Gandalf's feet.  
"Gandalf, my love, come to me. I need you. Do you still love me? Do you still stand to say that you can let go, let down this aching heart of mine? Oh, woe is me, but I am merely a part of you. Do you feel it? Do you feel me writhing, dying, extinguished at your feet? Love, let us not let these stone walls hold us prisoner to our own emotions. Look at what I have been reduced to. Do you bear to keep me this way? Do you not love me too? Answer me, that we shall abscond together for a life of joy and purity instead of this obsidian rhapsody in which we have found ourselves. Come, follow me. Tell me that you will. Gandalf, my love, do you not love me too?"  
  
Silence. Utter and complete silence.  
  
Ron sunk lower into the ground, his already sensitized skin molding to the cobblestone floor. He became painfully aware of the fact that he was lying, still naked, in front of his heart's desire who was rejecting him in the worst possible way in the worst possible place. It hurt him to see that his lover would kick a man on the ground. Him, lying there on the ground, with Gandalf nuzzled into the arms of another. He flinched at the thought of Gandalf waking to Dumbledore's sated visage. Oh, how it pained him so. Was the damned sex really that good? [sigh] Finders keepers, losers weepers. And, oh, how he would. ~*~ "Oh, Ginny," he sighed, as he wept uncontrollably into her open arms. He lay his head upon her cushioned lap, and whimpered, "He left me for Dumbledore." He could sense the tension mounting as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "They're sleeping together. A couple." Ginny shot up as she spoke, Ron tumbling out of her lap; "Dumbledore is cheating on me with Gandalf?" in a quiet, controlled tone only a fool could mistake for softness.  
"He told me he loved me," she drawled, dipping to the floor beside Ron, spirits shattered entirely. "Oh, Ron whatever shall I do?" She bore into him with her steady gaze, which then traveled over his sinewy chest, then lower, insinuating exactly what she expected from him. [Muhahahaha] ~*~  
Ping. The button bounced off of the wall and came to rest upon Dumbledore's tastefully groomed yet vacant excuse for ahead.  
"Ginny, my dear, I am pleased that you have enjoyed yourself in my absence, however if I may request a small tête-à-tête outside?"  
"Tête-à-tête? Are you mad? You claim you love me, cheat on me with a 60-year-old wrinkled-ball-of-ugh... you walk in on me while I am trying to get laid for the first time in months because you thought Viagra was a suppository and used so much that you overdosed and now they won't give you anymore. And you want to talk?  
"Perhaps other things if you may forgive me." He then opened his robe like a cape and dropped it to the floor, leaving a totally nude headmaster positioned comfortably in the doorway, other occupants gaping, albeit for different reasons.  
"Bye Ron, have a nice life," she called as she soared out of the open dungeon window [I couldn't resist], alongside her lover, robes fluttering unceremoniously behind. ~*~  
"Oh, Ron, take me back, I beseech thee. Please. I do love you, I really do. Won't you spare my throbbing heart? Do you still have a sliver of hope for our affinity? Ron, please, take me back? ...Love?" He whispered tenderly from the floor at Ron's feet, the hem of Ron's robes in limp, questioning hands. He quivered as he slowly yet deftly brought the edge to his lips, to offer a mark of his devotion. Lips gently caressed fraying rags as the two locked eyes in promise, hurt, and questions unanswered.  
The robe was gently tugged from his shoulders, leaving Gandalf with a silky pile of Ron's disregarded clothes, and Ron with nothing, entirely naked and fully erect in front of Gandalf's starved eyes.  
"'I'm sorry. I can't. Don't hate me.' You know, I really wish I did, just to spare you. But I don't care. I don't hate you, I don't love you. Hate is closer to love than indifference. I wish I could bring myself to hate you. Perhaps, as time progresses, I will miss you and see any error in my ways. But for now, I don't want you. I don't need you. I don't love you. I don't hate you, if that's any comfort at all. Goodbye."  
Gandalf slumped on the ground, immersing himself in the same robes he had admired on his lover's frame, the same robes he had kissed in repentance, and the same robes that today are bunched up on his shoulders as he flits about at the very edge of existence at the shadowed corner in the slums of society in which he hath brought himself. He had thrown everything out the window that day, out with his lover, his heart, and his will to live. When Ron had said Goodbye, he had not only said it to him, but for him. And that, my friend, and loyal reader, is what has become. The end, oh how I wish it were the end. But, a fairy tale ending does do justice for a tale that spiraled into depths not known to humankind. And so, my friend, the end. For now. 


End file.
